


I'll Be Your Sun

by BuckysButt, story_telling_sage



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Muggle, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-11-29 04:04:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11432772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuckysButt/pseuds/BuckysButt, https://archiveofourown.org/users/story_telling_sage/pseuds/story_telling_sage
Summary: Written for the Hogwarts Houses Net Gryffinpuuff vs Slytherclaw challenge by @peachyscorbus and @hannabbott for the challenge Muggle AU and crossposted on tumblr @hogwartshousesnetHarry Potter isn't a wizard, isn't the boy who lived, he's just Harry. That's what he thinks until he meets someone at a party who changes everything.





	I'll Be Your Sun

The music wafted from the garden up to Harry’s bedroom window. He wished he could have closed it, but the stifling heat of an early June evening left him no choice but to open it as far as possible, exactly three inches wide, thanks to the thick metal bars attached from the outside.

 

It was some kind of repetitive house music, which Dudley claimed to love, but which gave Harry a headache. He often wondered if that was why Dudley loved it so much. It would have made sense.

 

The party wasn’t anything fancy. Not by the Dursley’s standards. From his window, Harry could see a single table, straining under the weight of enough cans to get half his year in school drunk. He supposed it would be enough for however many of Dudley's private school friends bothered to show up. So far Harry had counted eight, maybe nine, different boys in the garden, of the 'fuckin loads’ of guests Dudley had predicted.

 

He just hoped more people would show up soon, so he could have half a chance at sneaking down and eating some of the food. Dudley was ordering pizzas with the money his parents had left to feed the two boys all weekend, and Harry knew if he didn't hide enough food in his room tonight, he wouldn't eat until his school lunch on Monday.

 

It took a while, but by the time the sky had begun to darken and the North Star was visible from his window, the house seemed to be filled up with privileged teenage boys, happy to get drunk and wreck somebody else's home.

 

He opened his bedroom door slowly, carefully, even though he was almost certain he'd seen Dudley in the garden, finishing off a beer that was neither his first, nor his last of the night.

 

Still, Harry had been given a warning to remain unseen, and he didn't want to find out the consequences for breaking Dudley's only rule. He still had a bruise covering most of his right calf from when he'd been 'accidentally’ kicked after using one of Dudley's mugs.

 

“Ayyyy!” Someone loud cheered from the kitchen, before they were drowned out by more shouts and hoots. As Harry descended the stairs he used to live under, he realised it was because a large group of older looking boys had just arrived, many of them carrying alcohol. It was exactly the kind of distraction Harry needed, and for that, he was immensely grateful.

 

He pushed and dodged and made it into the kitchen without being noticed - he was good at not being noticed - and found a pizza box that was more than half full. It was more than he thought he'd be able to steal, and he was ready to celebrate his good fortune when he was stopped by a very tall, very handsome boy maybe a year or two older than he was.

 

“You know that's for sharing right?”

 

“I’m, oh, I just.” Harry was torn between keeping the pizza and potentially attracting Dudley's attention and leaving it, and his chances of eating, behind. “I'm sorry.”

 

The boy just laughed and patted him on the shoulder in a way that might have been condescending coming from anyone else.

 

“Don't be, you've got the right idea. I wish I could take the food and leave sometimes too.”

 

Harry let out a short laugh at the thought of this chiselled god of a teenage boy wanting to leave any party early.

 

“Would you like a drink?” The boy asked, holding out a can of cider. “I'm Cedric by the way. Cedric Diggory.”

 

Harry took the can, to be polite.

 

“Harry Potter.”

 

“It's nice to meet you, Harry.” Cedric held out his hand again, and it took Harry, quite frankly, an embarrassing amount of time to realise he wanted to shake his hand.

 

“Say, Harry, how come I don't know you? I thought I knew everyone in the school.”

 

“Oh, I don't go to your school, I’m in Saint Joseph's, down the road.” This was it, Harry thought. The one and only conversation he'd ever had with someone this beautiful, and it was about to end because he didn't go to a posh private school like Duddy-kins.

 

“Then how do you know Dudley?” The reply startled Harry, who'd been ready to return to his room and continue pretending that he didn't exist.

 

“We're cousins.”

 

Harry didn't need to look up to know that Cedric was surprised. He and Dudley were opposites in every way. Where Dudley was tall and wide, Harry was short and bone thin. Where Dudley was blonde with pale, perpetually pink skin, Harry had long, dark, curly hair, and dark skin he could only assume was from his father. His green eyes contrasted Dudley's blue ones, and while his cousin was always loud, boisterous, aggressive, Harry was quieter, softer. He had learned early that his role in life was to remain as unnoticed as possible.

 

“But...” Cedric started, clearly confused. “But you're so nice.”

 

Now Harry was surprised.

 

“Well, we're not exactly close. I just live here.”

 

“You live with Dudley? I'm so sorry mate.”

 

Harry laughed, then Cedric did too, and just like that, whatever tension had remained between them was broken.

 

“Do you want to sit down?” Cedric asked, gesturing towards the kitchen table.

 

Harry glanced out the back door and nodded. He couldn't see Dudley, and he  _ really  _ wanted to keep talking to Cedric. He didn't know if he ever would again.

 

“Are you a friend of Dudley's then?”

 

“Not really. He's a year below me in school, but you know how it is. The lads were going out, and I'm always up for a gaffer.”

 

Harry nodded, despite the fact he had been invited to exactly one party in his life, and when he'd asked the Dursleys if he could attend, he'd been locked in the cupboard for two whole days with only a few crackers and a glass of tap water. He'd soon learned not to ask for anything else.

 

“You okay?” Cedric asked, startling Harry. “You look a bit spaced out.”

 

“Just thinking.”

 

“It's not the alcohol, is it? Because we can't have you telling your parents I got you drunk at a party.”

 

“That shouldn't be a problem.”

 

“Heavyweight, are you?”

 

“No, I just live here.” Harry paused, contemplating whether or not to continue, but just as Cedric looked about to reply, he cut in. “My parents are dead.”

 

Harry wasn't sure if the room truly fell quiet, or if it just felt that way. He turned to leave again when he felt a hand on his arm.

 

“I'm sorry.”

 

“I didn't even know them.”

 

“Still.”

 

“It not your fault.”

 

“It's what you're supposed to say though, isn't it. Don't know why.” Cedric looked down, as if ashamed.

 

“Yeah.”

 

The music had changed, without Harry noticing, to something slower, sweeter.

 

“Would you-” Harry started, at the same time as four or five boys approached Cedric.

 

“Who's this, eh Ced?” The tallest asked in what could only be described as a fake chav accent.

 

“Harry.” Cedric didn't offer up Harry's relationship to Dudley, and for that he was grateful.

 

“We're heading down the park, you in? You can bring him.”

 

“Nah, I'll catch up,” he replied, surprising Harry.

 

“You sure?” Another boy asked. “Cho’s gonna be there. And she's bringing vodka.”

 

“I'm good, really. I'll text you.”

 

“Suit yourself.”

 

As they left, Harry began to panic just slightly. He  _ really  _ couldn't afford to let Dudley catch him downstairs. Especially not now that people were starting to leave.

 

“Would you maybe like to come upstairs?” Harry asked, quietly.

 

He knew he shouldn't have. It was wrong to be at Dudley's party, and it was wrong to feel this way about another boy. But Harry had been doing things wrong his whole life; it was what he did best.

 

Cedric smiled and nodded, and it practically lit up the whole kitchen.

 

Harry stood up too quickly and felt his head spin. He’d never been drunk before, had never had a chance, and he wasn't sure he liked it. After all, his parents had been drunk driving when they died, or at least that's what the Dursleys had told him.

 

“Are you alright?”

 

“I might be drunk.”

 

Cedric laughed, then Harry copied him. It was easy, he thought, to laugh with Cedric as they made their way up the stairs. Something about his smile set Harry at ease.

 

His bedroom door was still open, and for once Harry was glad he didn't own many possessions, as it meant his room was constantly clean and tidy, unlike Dudley's which was filled with toys and gadgets.

 

“It’s not much, but…” Harry trailed off as he sat down on one end of his bed. Cedric didn't seem to mind. He barely glanced around the small room, looking instead at Harry.

 

“So…” Cedric sat, cross-legged, facing Harry on his bed.

 

“So.” Harry mimicked Cedric’s position as he replied.

 

“What year are you in school?”

 

“Year ten.”

 

“You look older than fourteen.”

 

“I got held back. And people usually say I look younger.”

 

Harry found himself unable to look away from Cedric’s eyes as they spoke.

 

“Nah, there's something about you, a maturity I guess. You don't act like anyone I know. You're different.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Good different.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Cedric ran a hand through his hair, looking as though he wanted to say something before he was interrupted by his phone buzzing.

 

“Sorry, I have to take this,” he said, turning towards Harry's door as he accepted the call.

 

Harry just nodded, before leaning back until his head rested against the headboard of his bed. He took a deep breath, then another, and tried, to no avail, to convince himself that his feeling for Cedric we're purely platonic.

 

“Fuck,” he whispered softly.

 

“What was that?” Cedric asked, from the doorway.

 

“Nothing, nothing.”

 

“Oh, well I have to leave now, I'm afraid.”

 

Harry was surprised by how genuinely sad Cedric looked to be leaving his tiny, boring bedroom.

 

“That's a shame.”

 

“Yeah, my dad wants me home, I've a big match tomorrow.”

 

“Match?” Harry stood up and followed Cedric out his bedroom door.

 

“Yeah, football. I play local under seventeen's.”

 

“Same!” Harry replied excitedly. “Well, I play football. Just on the school team, but I love it.”

 

Cedric reached the door and paused to look down at Harry.

 

“Well, I guess we’ll have a lot to talk about the next time we hang out.”

 

“Next time?” Harry was sure he saw Cedric's face drop at his reply.

 

“I mean, only if you wanted to, but-”

 

“I do,” Harry cut him off. “I’d really like to hang out again.”

 

Cedric’s smile returned and Harry’s heart fluttered.

 

“I’d better go, but here's my number so we can arrange our next hangout.” Cedric pulled a biro from his pocket and scribbled his digits on the inside of Harry's arm.

 

“Thank you.”

 

“Anytime.”

 

Harry stood on the doorstep while Cedric stepped out before pausing. He seemed to be debating something, and finally turned back and hugged Harry.

 

“Is was really great to meet you, Harry,” he said.

 

“You too, Cedric,” he replied.

 

Finally, Cedric left again, and Harry stayed at the door, watching his blonde hair glow under the orange streetlights until he disappeared into the night.

 


End file.
